(no subject)
This is my life. This is my life.
Did anyone catch Alias last night? That was probably one of the best hours of television I have ever watched in my life. In my life. JJ Abrams does a phenomenal job with character development. I would put him at second best behind Joss Whedon. That wasn't an episode, network mandated, to be dumbed down so "everyone" could understand. That was an episode for us.
I applied for a job to be an SA in the DMAT Lab, which is telecom techno jumbo for "guy who sits behind desk, checks out cameras, equipment, keys, and is an all around experienced MAC badass." And I've wanted to be a badass since the age of five, so this is like what, perfect? Well, maybe a bit less than perfect because perfect would be running around throwing french fries and beef patties at the Olsen twin's skinny ass.
But back to the job, I had the interview for it today and the chick practically shoved it down my throat. "Here Brandon, please take this filthy, filthy (it's so filthy, how did it get so filthy, why can't I wash out this filth!) money from me for your humble services!" So I did. And next semester I'll have mad cash. Which is rad.
But but, but next year, I'm living in a house on Elizabeth and Park Lane with not one, not two, but three, that's three other girls. We're looking for a fifth roommate. And if someone on my friends list, cough cough, wanted to uh, you know, if someone on my list didn't know what they were doing next year, they could uh, you know where I'm going with this one.
It's that time of the year again, where I have to see people who I could care less about, mainly my cockroach relatives. Between swallowing bitter words and wrestling with my brother (proving that I will always, man, ALWAYS be stronger than his sixteen year old ass), I don't think I'll be around these parts for some time.
Which is to say, yeah, I'm going away from the Internet and I'll give you a reason why so you won't start mourning my e-death and sending flowers to my parents who would probably just set them on the dining room table, forget to water them, and take them out to the curb alongside Katie Holmes' identity. So, shit.
See you next year fools.
Did anyone catch Alias last night? That was probably one of the best hours of television I have ever watched in my life. In my life. JJ Abrams does a phenomenal job with character development. I would put him at second best behind Joss Whedon. That wasn't an episode, network mandated, to be dumbed down so "everyone" could understand. That was an episode for us.
I applied for a job to be an SA in the DMAT Lab, which is telecom techno jumbo for "guy who sits behind desk, checks out cameras, equipment, keys, and is an all around experienced MAC badass." And I've wanted to be a badass since the age of five, so this is like what, perfect? Well, maybe a bit less than perfect because perfect would be running around throwing french fries and beef patties at the Olsen twin's skinny ass.
But back to the job, I had the interview for it today and the chick practically shoved it down my throat. "Here Brandon, please take this filthy, filthy (it's so filthy, how did it get so filthy, why can't I wash out this filth!) money from me for your humble services!" So I did. And next semester I'll have mad cash. Which is rad.
But but, but next year, I'm living in a house on Elizabeth and Park Lane with not one, not two, but three, that's three other girls. We're looking for a fifth roommate. And if someone on my friends list, cough cough, wanted to uh, you know, if someone on my list didn't know what they were doing next year, they could uh, you know where I'm going with this one.
It's that time of the year again, where I have to see people who I could care less about, mainly my cockroach relatives. Between swallowing bitter words and wrestling with my brother (proving that I will always, man, ALWAYS be stronger than his sixteen year old ass), I don't think I'll be around these parts for some time.
Which is to say, yeah, I'm going away from the Internet and I'll give you a reason why so you won't start mourning my e-death and sending flowers to my parents who would probably just set them on the dining room table, forget to water them, and take them out to the curb alongside Katie Holmes' identity. So, shit.
See you next year fools.